13 Going on 30

When Rose opened her eyes again, she found that they were covered with a piece of silky fabric, similar to the sleeping mask she'd found when she woke up to discover she was thirty. She reached up and pulled off Mira's scarf. Beaming, Rose took in her surroundings. She was in the basement closet, surrounded by board games and camping equipment. She was back!

Rose looked down at herself. She was wearing the pink tube top she'd put on for her thirteenth birthday party, and her chest was flat again. On the other side of the door, Rose heard an old – current – Madonna song. She could make everything right now. Mack wouldn't marry Ronny.

On the other side of the closet door, a thirteen year old Mack was being told that Rose was waiting for him in the storage room. Puzzled, the pudgy boy moved towards the door. Rose was waiting for him, just as Mira had said.

"Mack!" she cried happily as she threw herself into his arms for a big hug. This caught Mack very off guard and he toppled to the ground, taking Rose with him.

She looked into his eyes for a moment before giving him a very chaste kiss on the lips. He was bright red when she pulled away from him. "Wow, you sure know what you're doing," he said.

Rose laughed as she got off of him. "Come on, we're going to be late." Rose couldn't place is, but she had the strangest feeling something major was taking place right now. She pulled Mack to his feet.

"What are we going to be late for?" he asked as Rose dragged him up the stairs. Halfway up, the pair ran into Mira, who reached for Rose's throat and pulled the scarf away.

"Sorry, I forgot this," she simpered. Wait a minute…were Rose and Beaver holding hands? She snorted. This was too good. Wait until she told the girls about this. Mira's attention was changed from the rumors she was planning on starting to reality when Rose snatched the report from her hands and ripped it in half.

"Be the pot and the kettle all by yourself, biatch," Rose said coldly. "Come on, Mack," she added kindly. "I'll explain everything."

As they moved through Rose's home, the two slowly grew older. Rose had new memories of birthdays, holidays, vacations, romantic candlelit dinners…all with Mack. Her Mack, her sweet, loving Mack. When they reached the front door of the Ortiz house, the couple was wearing wedding attire and Rose was holding a bouquet of her namesakes in one hand. Mack opened the door, and their guests cheered.

At the end of the aisle their friends and family had formed, Mack looked into his wife's eyes for a long moment before finally kissing her.

When they broke apart for air, Mack reached into the inside pocket of his tux jacket and brought out a slim silver digital camera. "Mack," Rose said softly.

"Just one, Rosie. We have to document our wedding," he replied. He aimed the camera at he and his bride and snapped a photo of them sharing another kiss.

0o0o0o0

Three weeks later, Rose set a framed copy of that photo on the mantelpiece of she and Mack's new house. When she'd adjusted it to her liking, Rose set the next picture up, this one of her parents, followed by one of Mack's. When there were no pictures left, she smiled at her handiwork before wading through the sea of cardboard boxes to the front door.

She found her husband bringing another box out of the moving truck. He grinned at her approaching figure and added the box to the growing pile on the lawn before sitting down on the new couch that had just been delivered. Rose joined him, snuggling up to his side.

"Would you like a Razzle, Mrs. Hartford?" Mack asked as he fished a bag of candies out of his pocket. He poured a few into Rose's cupped hands, and she fed one to him. "Thank you, Mrs. Hartford."

Later, as Rose moved through the pink house she and Mack now owned, with her husband at her side, she knew this was what she had always wanted.